


New Jersey

by Weav



Category: The Loud House (Cartoon)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), College, F/M, Humor, Lemon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 15:41:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21460459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weav/pseuds/Weav
Summary: Clyde wants to tutor, but Lynn has something other than school work in mind. What could it possibly be?
Relationships: Lynn Loud Jr./Clyde McBride
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	New Jersey

Clyde reclines in the comfort of his bed and pjs, all while dealing with the budding discomfort of uncertainty as to what could be taking Lynn so long to show up. His only company was a severely overpriced Earth science textbook by his side.

An open schoolbook and a closed room—as a college freshman, he’s used to having both of those things to himself on a Wednesday night, but there’s a vital missing ingredient in all of this, and it makes his gut clutch in worry and his heart swells with a lonely, little ache.

He checks his watch again and sighs. Great, now she’s thirty minutes late. He got the time and date right, didn’t he? 6 PM on the dot on Wednesday was always the agreed upon time for his tutor sessions with Lynn, what with his roommate being out for club activities and all.

And she hasn’t bothered to text him and clue him in on the hold-up.

He has the sense not to fret about improbable tragedies befalling her, an instinct that he had to beat into his psyche to counter his tendency to spiral out of control, but it doesn’t mean that he’s free from wondering what could be taking her so long.

Maybe a mob of autograph-starved fans caught her on the way over and flagged her down for her attention. Now that, rather than something like a flock of large crows swooping her up and flying her away, seemed likely. Despite his worry, he has to laugh at the thought of a wide-eyed Lynn being overwhelmed as a mass of hands, paper, and pens closed in on her from all directions. 

_‘Nothing less for the biggest sports star on campus, I suppose,’_ he thinks with another chuckle.

His thoughts carry him over to a slightly better mood at the perfect moment for what should follow his laugh but a knock at his door. His face lights up as he jumps out of bed, his heart racing with excitement. Either Harper was back early from extreme crocheting or...

He’s almost there when he slips on the loose pocket of his left sock and tumbles like a deer on ice before thumping chin first on the floor. He hears another knock while scrambling back to his feet, blocking out the pain and thanking his lucky stars that Lynn couldn’t see him fumbling around like a goof.

Speaking of which, she’s the only thing he sees when he opens the door, and he beams at her nervously, hoping there aren’t any visible aftereffects of his little spill for her to poke fun at.

His heart sinks when her friendly smile shifts into a mischievous smirk as she cocks her head to the side and points at him. “Gotta say, Clyde, that’s quite a fashion statement you’re making with those glasses. And here I thought the crooked look would be silly. Way to prove me wrong.”

Red blotches his cheeks as he scrambles to mend his blunder, muttering sheepishly while slipping the left arm back over his ear. Once everything’s fixed, he has to admire the full view of his girlfriend’s face—from the beautiful curve of her laughing smile to her brown eyes that seem to sparkle whenever she’s around him.

Even her pert, pudgy nose looks twice as cute for some reason.

Other than her breathtaking expression, she wears nothing but a sports jacket, basketball shorts, and sneakers. Suddenly, everything seems to fall into place—she must’ve gotten back from practice with her team and lost track of time.

Her hand slips on her cocked hip, her signature smirk creeping up. “Well, you gonna let me in or just stare at me all night? Not that I mind, but we can do that in your room.”

He fumbles around in his brain for a clever retort, but comes up short.

As usual.

Instead, he’s left welcoming her in and closing the door once she’s made herself at home. She slips her shoes off and tosses them to the side before she hops in his bed, knocking his textbook off in the process—he watches as she lets out a sigh of relief and slips her folded arms behind her head, her gaze fixed on the ceiling.

“Man, what a daaaaay,” she groans. “You had to be there, Clyde—three papers assigned on the same day, an oral presentation that I barely got a C on, and to top it all off I had to sub in for the coach of the junior varsity volleyball team. I swear, her sick days are getting more and more suspicious.”

Clyde’s eyebrow shoots up. “Why? You’re not even on the team.”

Lynn sighs wearily. “I was doing Paula a solid.”

“Ah. I see,” he replies with a curt nod.

Clyde doesn’t say it out loud, but he has his doubts. From the way she was talking just now, it sounded just like any other day in her busy college junior life—trying to keep her head above water by not failing college while training to be the best shooting guard in school history, and keeping her eyes and ears out for a friend in need. Could that really cause her to act like she had been put through the wringer so easily?

He hopes not. He likes being there for her by helping her pass her classes—her being too tired to get through pages upon pages of diagrams and summaries wasn’t going to let him do that. She inspires him to be a better man just by being her awesome self. Was it too much to ask for him to scratch her back whenever he could?

“Oh, and I forgot to mention...” Clyde’s ears perk up from the casual tone, as if she was about to bring up something irrelevant that had slipped her mind. “...you can put that big ‘ol brain of yours to rest tonight. I already got tutored today.”

The second the last of her words came out, they drill through him like a bullet, leaving his heart wounded and his eyes wavering from the hurt that fill them.

“Wh-what?” he whimpers, his voice shaky and needy. “But...but that’s supposed to be _our_ thing.”

His hurt tone was clearly well-spoken for but all Lynn could do was glance at him, regarding him with the sort of impatience a parent had for their child’s imminent temper tantrums. Clyde was almost certain that _that_ hurt the most. Couldn’t she see how wrong this was?

“Clyde, come on. You don’t have to be all...” She pauses, her eyes widening in disbelief. An amused smile splits through her lips. “Wait...are you pouting?”

“No, I’m not,” he protests weakly, his cheeks burning and puffing up.

She doesn’t buy it—her uproar of laughter tells it all. “You’re totally pouting!” 

Surprisingly, even though this was in spite of himself, it’s her joy that salves the biting sting of her “betrayal” somewhat. Though, he’s still gonna have to get to the bottom of who this secret tutor was that was apparently soooooo good that Lynn had no choice but to ditch him.

Oh, and the fact that he was not pouting!

Her giggling finally ceases, and the light from her pale smile starts to possess his senses—everything in his body’s ablaze with inescapable   
warmth. He can’t but smile back.

“Never stop being adorable, okay?” she asks.

He nods with a flattered grin, then Lynn goes on to explain herself.

“Yeah, I got some rando from study hall to help me out. Think his name was...Ethan or some shit. You know him?” She cuts in before he can reply. “Yeah, you know him. You have to. Nerds of a feather flock together, right?”

He’s pretty sure that’s not how it goes. But he wasn’t about to correct her for an admittedly funny joke. But still, she’s leaving him in the dark and it presses him to ask her, trying not to sound jealous, “Why?”

She shrugs, her lips upturned and showing off her teeth. “Cause I thought we could do something fun with our Wednesday evenings for a change.”

He knows not to take offense to that. He knew he liked tutoring Lynn, but it was only somewhat enjoyable for her because he was the one doing it. That wasn’t his ego talking—she had admitted that herself. Plus, how could there be any room for hurt when she had a good time in mind and went out of her way to make that possible?

Classic Lynn—MVP both on and off the court.

“Like what?” he asks, his curiosity piqued.

He can feel his back tingle with anticipation when her eyes suddenly narrow and her smile darkens. His heart races, his blood turning hot as her mouth slightly parts and she softly digs her teeth into bottom lip—that was always the look she gave him before she would pounce on him and...and...

Oh dear. Now there’s another (much lower) part of him that’s tingling, and he can feel his arms quiver as droplets of sweat moisten his forehead.

“Weeeeeell...” She pats the edge of the bed, her sneaky gaze filtering smoke into his brain that make his nerve-ends crackle. “First, you gotta sit right here for me.”

He gulps, nods, and shuffles awkwardly forward, hoping that his boner wasn’t standing loud and proud in a salute. If she noticed, she was pretending not to—her eyes were boring into his, the vision of naughty intentions drying up his throat. As he sits down, Lynn gets up and walks a few feet in front of him, looking back over her shoulder to give him one last look at her sexy-looking smirk before facing forward and her back turned to him. 

He tries not to gaze downwards and center his focus on the ample curves of her shorts-covered bottom.

He fails miserably.

Blood crashes through his temples, burning up his face in a blazing blush, and it’s almost hard for him to hear what she has to say next—all he knows to do is thrust his hand in his lap to hide his desire from her.

“I want you to check out this new jersey I picked up the other day,” she says. “I think it looks pretty cool, but I wanna know what you think.”

From there, it’s just the sound of her jacket zipping down, and the pangs of horniness that once thrummed in his loins slowly but surely begin to ebb. She was messing with him, and he fell for it—what could be so titillating about a simple jersey?

The zipping stops and her jacket gets flung away. His brain’s not completely out of its haze, so he can’t help but feel his gut clench and his fists ball up in a bid to compose himself as his eyes roam her back. The shirt is black, the neck and sleeves of it trimmed in red and white. The same thing goes for the “LYNN” and “1” underneath her name, but they’re filled in with red to blend beautifully with the surrounding black.

What stands out the most, though, is how...skin-tight it is. Her powerful, toned back curves splendidly against the fabric, her muscles straining for freedom as the subtle movements from her breathing push against it. 

His groin feels scorched again, whether it was her intention to get him this hot and bothered or not. But if a showcase was what she wanted, then it’s weird that she’s not turning around to show him the front. Why wouldn’t she...s-she...

_‘Wait...is she...?’_

Clyde shivers with excitement, his thoughts broken when she does the unthinkable and hooks her thumbs into the sides of her shorts. Before he can fully register what’s happening, she yanks them down in a flash, letting gravity do the rest of the work as they slide down her packed thighs, past her knees and calves, and finally pool around her feet. She steps out of them and plants her feet wide, her hands cupping her hips.

He’s left gawking, his mouth gaping like a fish out of water. The untamable heat in his chest trickles everywhere else as he soaks in every inch of this revelation—this “jersey” was much more like a jersey/leotard hybrid. And unlike the regular ones, this one doesn’t leave much to the imagination. It leaves a wedgie deep enough for the muscles in her freckles hips and the divine shape of her butt to be on full display.

“I like how comfy it is,” she says, acting like she wasn’t turning him into putty, “not to mention how they let me stretch and move around without a problem. Wanna see?”

His cock throbs, waiting on bated breath for her next move. He swallows as she bends forward, her hands smoothing down her hips and legs before they rest on her knees. She stops when she’s practically bent in half at the waist, looking at him through the gap of her legs. He can see light pink dusting her cheeks and her half-lidded eye/cheeky grin combo makes him pant lightly.

He doesn’t know how far she’ll take this, but he’ll let her do whatever she damn well pleases.

She winks and waves her hand at him, her fingers fluttering, as she unrolls herself...

Only to drop to the floor in the straddle splits, her body dipping down in one fluid motion. She arches her back as she places her hands on the floor behind her, a series of loud pops crackling in her back. “Mmmmm, yeah. God, I’ve been carrying that around for days.”

She rolls her neck around for a bit to loose out a few cracks from there, too. She stops mid-rotation when she can side-eye him and the trance her figure’s placed him in. “Guess I should show you the front now, eh?”

She giggles when he nods like his life depends on it. Not one to keep him waiting, she gets to her feet and turns around, his immediate reaction stroking her ego like nothing else. The poor boy can’t help but continue to gawk as the same “LYNN” and “1” from the back plaster around the chest area and her toned abs. The collar is low enough for the tops of her B-cupped breasts to be shown, and it’s like he’s seeing her naked boobs for the first time.

He follows the groove of the fabric into her crotch, the clothing being just wide enough to cover her bits and...

Clyde’s heart lurches. Holy shit, was she wet?! He thinks so, considering what he thinks is a dark patch soaking around the juncture of her thighs but...

He can’t even think about the possibilities that could come from that as Lynn’s face suddenly screws up in an expression of malicious concern.

“You okay?” she asks oh so-sweetly. “You haven’t said anything yet. Need a closer look?”

His muscles are locked up tight, barely allowing him to nod. His breath burns in his lungs as he begins to hyperventilate, watching her slink forward on soundless feet. In one breadth of a blink, she’s standing before him, her head cocked to the side as she taps her chin with her pointer finger. “Hmmmm...I think we can do a little better than this.”

The mattress dips as she lowers herself, her legs framing the sides of his hips as she settles in his lap. He can feel her shapely ass against his legs, and his breath catches. Then, he nearly bowls over from a powerful waft of her murky, dank scent—he nearly gives into primal lust, knowing full well what it is and where it’s coming from.

She pushes forward, dragging her crotch against his and stopping when her chest is scant inches way from his face. His breath catches when she suddenly grabs his wrists and brings his hands on her hips. He looks up at her and the fevered flush that covers her face.

“You better hold on,” she says and forces him to squeeze into her flesh through her grip before letting go.

His breath comes out in ragged gasps—he can’t stop himself from spiraling into deviant passion as he slowly kneads her, drawing out a heady moan. The feeling of her lean muscle pushing against his palms and fingers sends pleasure pushing into his core at a volume that makes the tip of his cock leak.

“Y-your turn,” she pants, slipping her hands around his shoulders, the weight of her palms digging into his stiff muscles with expert precision.

He lets out a sigh, tingling in ecstasy as her strong fingers press into him, delivering unmatched pleasure. He was literally in the hands of a girl who knew far too well what she was doing—it was as if she was doing just enough to leave him delicately teetering over the edge as his body melts under her touch.

His eyes slip shut, and yet he can see see her smirk as clear as day. The pressure travels up to his neck, her thumbs spreading their heat through his knots. What little sense of control he had was quickly waning, fading fast as she toys with her prey.

“Ahhh,” he moans softly, and he can only imagine how it makes her react.

His hands still as he quickly sucks in a gasp of air—her hips are dragging back and forth, and their clothing can’t separate him from her wet heat and the slick friction she’s making. Her fingers flutter across his throat, and his eyes burst open as he leans his head back—he’s helpless to stop his moan.

He’s able to lock eyes with her for just a split second before she goes for the plunge and locks her lips at the side of his neck while her hands target his back, circling his waist. He feels her mouth skim his skin, goosebumps breaking out on his flesh as he shudders. It glides slowly, as if she was savoring every sweet second of his sighs and gasps before they rest on his cheek. She gives the skin a quick peck, then another on his pulse, then several around the corners of his mouth. He tries to push into her lips with his own, but she retreats, flashing a wicked smile.

He whines like a scorned dog, and she chuckles. Her hands stop massaging him, and they immediately get to work on slipping his glasses off his head and placing them at their side. He hardly registers a difference in vision—his eyes are clouded enough as it, filled with desire.

Her hands went back in the fray when they splay against the sides of his face and roughly yank his body forward—her pursed lips brush against his, and they alight into motion. Her bucking hips pick up in speed, and he finally starts to push back, his bulge prodding her pussy through their clothes. His trembling hands go back to her body as their kiss deepens—this time, he’s skimming her taut stomach with his fingertips.

She sighs in his mouth in approval, and it’s the perfect opening for his tongue to slip out and meet hers as their kiss grows needier. Her hands drift away to undo the scrunchies in her ponytail, letting her soft, brown hair flow down her back. She tosses it away then cups his face again, holding onto him for purchase while his fingers poke and prod her in spine-shivering ways. He slides the tips through the grooves in her abs, then further upwards before halting at her chest. He slips around them, opting to take the straps of her leotard and glide them down her shoulders. Her breast spill out as the fabric slides down her body, and his grabby hands immediately get to work, squeezing her mounds and tweaking her nipples.

Even through their kiss, her moans pound in his ears. He’s lost in time, only concerned with pleasing Lynn and being pleased by her. Her hands start moving again as she pushes against his chest to break their kiss, panting to catch her breath. He does the same and nearly sucks all of hers in with a gasp when her hands start moving again. They effortlessly tear into his gray, cotton T-shirt and fling the scraps away, unveiling his naked upper body. She pushes him back on the bed by his shoulders, her legs caging his waist. She quickly yanks down his pajama bottoms and underwear in one fell swoop and she takes a brief moment to eye his length jutting up from a nest of curly hair—she lets out a shaky breath, her anticipation hitting a fever pitch.

She’s distracted enough not to notice him bring his hands forward and clutch the fabric clamping her soaking wet snatch. He slides it out the way and the sight of her sticky moisture glistening her pubes and pussy nearly makes him pass out. He aims for her clit, pressing his thumb into it and gently rotating on and around the swollen nub. Un-Lynn-like mewls tremble out of her as she fights to keep her breathing under control. She stares at his flushed face through narrow slots and the tendrils of her hair that cling to her sweating face.

His other hand goes to work on her opening, rimming the outline with his pointer finger, then prodding the very tip into her. He repeats the motions, knowing she was close to the edge while also knowing that he wasn’t far off. She purrs deep in her throat, clearly reveling in every blast of white-hot passion his fingers send through her spine. He takes one hand away, leaving the other to continue rubbing her clit, as he drags it back up to her swaying breast—he resumes kneading it like before.

And her will to hold on before he does breaks.

She leans down, fusing their lips together in another lip-lock, pushing her tongue into his mouth and tasting every part she can. She scrapes the inner walls of his cheeks, tickling him with licks of the tip of her tongue. His overworked nerves barely have time to catch up as the firm, pliant pressure off one of her hands grips his erection, causing his hands to fall away to his sides from the shock of pleasure that paralyze him. 

He’s powerless to do anything but feel her squeeze along his length, slowly rotating him around her firm grip. She’s not completely lost in passion to smile wickedly at the way his face scrunches up with each press of her talented fingers—they’ve driven him to madness plenty of times before, and tonight was no different.

Now, she’s grazing a fingernail from the base to the tip, clumping up pre-cum against her flesh and lubing him up with each pass of her hand. His feet kick up, the electricity from her hands spreading like wildfire. She laughs at his convulsion and teases him further by softly pinching the head between her thumb and pointer finger, all while she scoots closer...

And closer...

And closer...

She halts when her pussy is right in front of his weeping dick, and she stands up on her knees. She hovers just above the head, the juices from her entrance dribbling down and coating his length. She finally releases him, but doesn’t give him time to recover before she sinks down, sheathing him through her oily, burning passage. He hisses through his teeth as he felt her walls mold around him—he basks in divine rapture as white light brims into his eyes, blinding him to everything but her murmurs of pleasure as she thrusts up and down. 

“O-oh God,” he breathes in a hushed whisper, his hips moving along with hers.

Another haughty grin forms on her face. “Th-that’s right. I am.”

The bed squeaks underneath them, hardly able to contain their bouncing bodies. He takes his idle hands and press them into her backside, gripping her to help their bodies stay close even as they fly apart before fusing together. 

She thrusts faster, and he wonders how he’s still holding on, able to keep up as her dank passion permeates his very soul through every breath he takes. He’s overflowing from piercing volts, but he wants more. His monstrous appetite for her can only be overwhelmed by hers for him.

He’s crying out in pleasure through choppy breath as his shaft swells and grinds against her, his head prodding her cervix mercilessly. She retains a measure of composure as she looks down down at him in a challenging glance. 

“Who’s number one?” she pants, then grunts when he brushes against a sweet spot.

“Y-you. You...are,” he splutters.

Their wet, tacky unison rockets, making their thrusts harder and faster than before. She grits her teeth in a grimace, resisting the urge to come undone right there and then. “Who’s number one?!”

He feels her clench around him, and his toes curl as his eyes briefly slip shut. “You are!”

“Say my name!”

“Lynn!”

“A-again!”

And he does so, chanting it to the heavens between his grunts. Panting, she clutches into the blanket, and he knows why—she’s close to the edge, but so is he. He’s as compressed as he’s ever been in her walls, her boiling hot slickness oozing through and splattering his groin with each heightened bounce.

He’s still gracing her ears with her name, moaning it with fervor as his spine is racked with fluttering tendrils that jolt through with blissful agony. His squeezes his eyes shut and cries out the name of his angel, his goddess, once more as she slams and clamps around him—it tugs him to the point of no return, splintering through his mind as he thrashes under her own climax-ridden body. He splatters her with jets of his seed, spraying and pumping without restraint while she freezes, her body shaking and humming contently.

She falls limp onto him, his deflating erection no longer holding her in place. Their mingled love courses onto him, dripping down his crotch on soaking into the sheets. They’re still panting, trying to regain their senses as his arms leave her butt to clutch her waist.

She looks him dead in his eyes, her cocky smile almost turning him on all over again. 

“And don’t you fucking forget it, Clyde McBride,” she whispers and kisses him lightly on his sweaty forehead before burying her face in the crook of his neck.

All the same, she hopes that he will—she’s not above reminding him all over again.

**Author's Note:**

> I guess you can consider this my contribution to the “leotard Lynn” trend that’s going on right now. Hope you had fun reading! ^^


End file.
